The Meaning of Meaning Itself
The morning seems as if it were fading into a darkness, soon to be lost in the depths of night. The light still slightly illuminates the sky, making it a slightly orangish color. It seems as though there are no people within miles of land. The sound of wind is heard from a distance; blowing away most of the putridity in the air. There stand two people named Chris and Abel, both of which are wearing backpacks, whom are standing with a bloody corpse whose blood paints the tall, green grass. The moonlight reflects off of Abel’s metallic string as the light shines off of Chris’s very dirty, yet blemishless face. Gore smothers both of their faces as the rotted corpse of their friend lies in the center of them in the grassy field. Abel takes a step forward and kneels down before the body. He begins to stitch the piece of flesh from her arm together that they had recently sliced. Abel then places his worn hand on the girl’s mouth and begins to speak. “Oh, valuable meaning, such glorious meaning. What must one do in order to gain something so astonishing; so lucid and yet conveys such illustrious beauty. How does one feel this way about another? Is it the sweet fragrance of what is hidden? Is it the wonderful feel of something so well structured?" "Would it even be the feeling inside of me that aches and so cold-heartedly to find an access through my perfect chest? My love, dear friend, you are one of the many keys to finding what makes up the value of such meaning. You are mine to keep, and for others to adore. You, Lydia, are my most prized piece of meaning.” Chris stands up and licks the blood on his Butterfly Knife until the steel is plainly visible. He smirks and strikes the skull with the metal cleat of his shoe. The crackle of a broken vertebra is heard. The kick dislocates her skull. “Oh my, it seems as though we have done it again, brother,” Chris calmly states. Abel stares at the awkwardly positioned head of Lydia. He kneels down and kisses the mouth of the corpse and quickly stands. “Agh! Indeed,” Abel growled while wiping the taste from his lips. “To think that I befriended this monstrosity. Where did the meaning go?” Chris looks down and glances at her lips. He pulls on the upper lip of Lydia and begins to slice through the flesh until it was cut off and places it in his mouth and begins to chew, trying to savor the taste. He then stands and walks towards Abel who has already trailed away from the body and starts toward the fields. “I’m not sure, brother,” Chris mutters as he begins to swallow. “I don’t see how you do it. You find great people, and they taste so decent.” “Yes... well, if only their taste were as good as their personalities,” Abel giggles slightly. “In some cases they do.” “You mustn’t be so obscene!” Chris retorts. “These people are so clean. We mustn’t act so grotesquely towards them.” Abel remains silent. He sees a moving figure towards his left. “A person...” he whispers. “Quick, hand me a shirt, water and some spray." He gives Chris a stern look. "Do as I do.” Chris scurries to find a clean shirt and deodorant spray that his brother had ordered and finally finds them in the mess. Abel quickly removes his shirt and pours water down his face, washing the bits of fresh blood and flesh off. He grabs the clothing and starts patting himself down. He sprays the deodorant and puts on the fresh smelling shirt. Chris mimics the exact actions his brother had performed and drops the putrid-smelling clothing. They begin to follow the person that had appeared to be on an evening jog. It was a lady. She had a slim, tenuous body. She looked as though she had been working out for quite some time; wearing a very thin blue shirt and black Capri’s. They follow her until she sat down on a bench next to a beach for some rest and hydration. Abel and Chris dramatically slow their pace until they are steadily walking. “She’s beautiful, brother,” Abel softly proclaimed. “I wonder if she has the meaning I’m searching for.” “She may,” Chris replies, panting. ”I’m tired. I believe that you may have a wonderful someone sitting there. I’ll let you handle this...” Chris swiftly makes his way towards the sand and calmly lies down. Abel tucks his shirt into his pants and begins to jog, acting as if he had been jogging for hours. The water from earlier in his hair made it look very believable. The woman looks his way but doesn’t seem to mind and begins to take a swig of her water from the bottle she held. Abel slows his pace and begins to walk again while making his way towards the bench, wiping his hair along the way. The woman scoots over and Abel sits down and silently pretends to catch his breath. The woman begins to look at him; smiling at the thought of comparing herself to Abel becoming as sweaty as he jogged when she hardly had broken a sweat. “Are you alright there?” she asks, curiously smiling. “Quite, I mean yeah, I’m fine. Thank you,” Abel panted and looks toward her direction. “I’m training for an event.” “Are you?” she asked, slightly giggling. “What’s your name?” “I’m Abel. What’s yours?” Abel smirked. “My name is Catharine!" she replies cheerfully. “I’m a runner as well. I go to events across…” Her voice trails off as she ponders the name “Abel". “What’s your last name? Your name sounds really familiar,” she says, still thinking of the name. “Are you, by any chance, famous?” “Well, I’m quite… Ehm, people know us from around these parts and other regions,” Abel says stumblingly. “We’re... quite the runners actually.” “Us? Who else is here?” she nervously asked. “My brother, Chris,” Abel silently answers. “Chris…” her voice trails off as she rubs her chin. “Abel!” she then shrieked. She quickly backs away from the bench in attempts to run when the sharp sound of an object cuts through the wind and makes its way towards Catharine’s torso. She is too slow to beat the swift knife slicing the meat and sticking into her right clavicle. Abel glances behind himself and sees his brother in the distance. A hard thud is heard as the body slaps the ground. “You couldn’t wait, brother?” Abel shouts as he runs towards Catharine’s twitching body. Chris runs towards Abel. “She recognized us? I’m amazed at how fast news spreads about us,” Chris states. “Why must they do that, brother? Everyone will soon know!” Abel retorts. “All I wish to know is the where meaning comes from. Is that so much to ask? We must find it!” Catharine stares breathlessly at them, unsuccessfully trying to stand. Blood seeps from the wound they have created. Abel and Chris stand above her, each reaching for objects in their packs. Abel pulls out a small towel and places it over her face. Chris then holds an old blunt knife over the lump on her neck known as an Adams-apple, and begins to furiously slit every blood vessel in the path to the trachea. She lets out a screech. Abel presses the towel over her mouth and muffles any sound they she tries to make. Chris looks into the new incision. “Abel, I can’t find the any meaning,” Chris says worryingly. “You mustn’t be as abrupt when cutting as you said before, Chris,” Abel calmly states, focused on the body. “Meaning lies within a person, and so shall it be.” Abel takes the knife from Chris. “You must look deeper, brother. The taste, the touch, the feel, and the sight of meaning are the keys to find the true meaning of meaning,” Abel states, reassuring himself. Chris pulls apart her jaw and Abel begins to slice the cheeks of Catharine. Blood fills her mouth. She begins to twitch violently. Abel repeatedly begins to punch the skull of the dying body. After a moment, she stops moving. “She’s finally still,” Abel angrily claims. Chris nods and hands a scalpel to Abel. Abel shifts himself downward and begins to create incisions in her abdomen, allowing the red fluids to roam freely from the inside of her. “It smells very pure!” Abel cheerfully exclaims. “It must be here.” He begins to cut furiously and shoves his hand into the soft organs of Catharine’s corpse. The smell lingers under his nose and he inhales deeply. Abel then feels a hard, rigged pipe from the inside and yanks until it crackling is heard and eventually breaks it. "That isn't very pure..." his voice trails off as he tries to dig into her body. The blood flowing past his arms pleasures him. He then finds a soft organ and as he wraps his hand around it, he tries to pull on it. Abel successfully rips out a kidney from an attached cord. It’s small and fragile. He moves it towards his mouth and licks the kidney. He smothers himself in the fowl liquid and waste within the kidney, but finds it to be very dissatisfying. He throws it at Chris, and it splatters on the grotesqueness of his shirt. He wipes the pieces of organ from his shirt with his bloody hand and licks his hand, laminating it with his saliva from his watering mouth. Abel reaches his hand upward inside of the corpse, ripping and tearing through every barrier of organ that is in his way, then swiftly yanks out his arm and shoves his head down into the gaping blood-filled hole of her abdomen. He slowly gulps down every last ounce of blood that his body could consume while licking everything he can clean of the liquid. He finally takes his head out and sighs. Blood drips down his face. Chris reaches for a shirt and rubs his face clean of the mess. Abel looks saddened. “Yet another loss, brother,” Abel says suddenly. “I don’t feel the meaning. Where is the meaning located? If it isn’t inside of her, then where could it be?” “Simple, Abel,” he replies, pointing to her head. He stares at the direction at which Chris is pointing, then smiles. Abel then reaches into the pack to pull out the last item inside: a hammer. He grasps her jaw and begins to smash her cranium, cracking the skull with every hit. Blood spews everywhere and the fluids easily surround the area. He rotates the hammer with the sharp end facing the skull and begins to pick his way into the brain, tearing flesh in the way. He then puts the hammer down and tears the remaining flesh, leaving a grotesque mess of human remains on the floor then begins to grab and tear bits of the brain. The body is no longer recognizable. The brain begins to ooze clear liquid and blood as he puts bits into his mouth and chews violently. The only thing he feels is his stomach feeling full. He swallows what’s left of the brain and stands next to the body, with Chris at his side. “Nothing, brother. I don't feel any different,” Abel whispers. “I guess I won’t know anything relating to meaning. Leave all of this failure. I’ll keep trying. I won't give up.” Chris and Abel strap on their backpacks and walk away from the rancidness of the scene, leaving behind their tools of torture. With the help of Chris, Abel will surely find the true meaning of meaning itself. Meaning always lies within another. We just need to take the time to find and recognize it. Category:Mental Illness Category:Dismemberment Category:NSFW